FROM the befieged Ardea all in poft,
Borne by the truftlefs wings of false defire,
Luft-breathed Tarquin leaves the Roman hoft,
And to Collatium bears the lightless fire
Which, in pale embers hid, lurks to aspire,
And girdle with embracing flames the waist
Of Collatine's fair love, Lucrece the chafte.
Haply that name of chafte unhapp❜ly fet
This bateless edge on his keen appetite;
When Collatine unwifely did not let
To praise the clear unmatched red and white
Which triumph'd in that sky of his delight,
Where mortal stars, as bright as heaven's beauties,
With pure aspects did him peculiar duties.
For he the night before, in Tarquin's tent,
Unlock'd the treasure of his happy state;
What priceless wealth the heavens had him lent
In the poffeffion of his beauteous mate;
Reckoning his fortune at fuch high-proud rate,
That kings might be espoused to more fame,
But king nor peer to fuch a peerless dame.
O happiness enjoy'd but of a few!
And, if poffefs'd, as foon decayed and done
As is the morning's filver-melting dew
Against the golden fplendour of the fun!
An expir'd date, cancel'd ere well begun :
Honour and beauty, in the owner's arms,
Are weakly fortrefs'd from a world of harms.
Beauty itself doth of itself perfuade
The eyes of men without an orator;
What needeth then apology be made
To set forth that which is fo fingular?
Or why is Collatine the publisher
Of that rich jewel he should keep unknown
From thievish ears, because it is his own?
Perchance his boaft of Lucrece' fovereignty
Suggested this proud issue of a king ;
For by our ears our hearts oft tainted be:
Perchance that envy of fo rich a thing,
Braving compare, difdainfully did fting
His high-pitch'd thoughts, that meaner men should vaunt The golden hap which their superiors want.
But fome untimely thought did instigate
His all-too-timeless speed, if none of those :
His honour, his affairs, his friends, his state,
Neglected all, with fwift intent he goes
To quench the coal which in his liver glows.
O rash-false heat, wrapt in repentant cold,
Thy hasty spring still blafts, and ne'er grows old!
When at Collatium this falfe lord arrived,
Well was he welcomed by the Roman dame,
Within whose face beauty and virtue strived
Which of them both should underprop her fame :
When virtue bragg'd, beauty would blush for shame;
When beauty boasted blushes, in despite
Virtue would stain that or with filver white.
But beauty, in that white intituled,
From Venus' doves doth challenge that fair field;
Then virtue claims from beauty beauty's red,
Which virtue gave the golden age, to gild
Their filver cheeks, and call'd it then their shield;
Teaching them thus to use it in the fight,—
When shame affail'd, the red fhould fence the white.
This heraldry in Lucrece' face was seen,
Argued by beauty's red, and virtue's white.
Of either's colour was the other queen,
Proving from world's minority their right:
Yet their ambition makes them still to fight;
The fovereignty of either being fo great,
That oft they interchange each other's feat.
This filent war of lilies and of rofes
Which Tarquin view'd in her fair face's field,
In their pure ranks his traitor eye encloses;
Where, left between them both it should be kill'd,
The coward captive vanquished doth yield
To those two armies that would let him go,
Rather than triumph in fo false a foe.
Now thinks he that her husband's fhallow tongue
(The niggard prodigal that prais'd her fo)
In that high task hath done her beauty wrong,
Which far exceeds his barren skill to fhow:
Therefore that praise which Collatine doth owe,
Enchanted Tarquin anfwers with furmife,
In filent wonder of ftill-gazing eyes.
This earthly faint, adored by this devil,
Little fufpe&teth the falfe worshipper;
For thoughts unftain'd do feldom dream on evil;
Birds never lim'd no fecret bufhe's fear:
So guiltless she securely gives good cheer
And reverend welcome to her princely gueft,
Whose inward ill no outward harm exprefs'd:
For that he colour'd with his high eftate,
Hiding base fin in plaits of majefty;
That nothing in him feem'd inordinate,
Save fometime too much wonder of his eye,
Which, having all, all could not fatisfy ;
But, poorly rich, fo wanteth in his store,
That cloy'd with much, he pineth still for more.
But she that never cop'd with stranger eyes,
Could pick no meaning from their parling looks,
Nor read the subtle-fhining fecrecies
Writ in the glaffy margents of fuch books;
She touch'd no unknown baits, nor fear'd no hooks; Nor could fhe moralize his wanton fight,
More than his eyes were open'd to the light.
He stories to her ears her husband's fame,
Won in the fields of fruitful Italy;
And decks with praises Collatine's high name,
Made glorious by his manly chivalry,
'With bruised arms and wreaths of victory:
Her joy with heav'd-up hand she doth exprefs,
And, wordless, so greets heaven for his fuccefs.
Far from the purpose of his coming thither,
He makes excufes for his being there.
No cloudy show of stormy blustering weather
Doth yet in his fair welkin once appear;
Till fable Night, mother of Dread and Fear,
Upon the world dim darkness doth display,
And in her vaulty prifon ftows the day.
For then is Tarquin brought unto his bed,
Intending weariness with heavy spright ;
For, after fupper, long he queftioned
With modeft Lucrece, and wore out the night:
Now leaden slumber with life's ftrength doth fight;
And every one to reft himself betakes,
Save thieves, and cares, and troubled minds that wakes.
As one of which doth Tarquin lie revolving
The fundry dangers of his will's obtaining;
Yet ever to obtain his will refolving,
Though weak-built hopes perfuade him to abstaining:
Despair to gain, doth traffic oft for gaining;
And when great treasure is the meed propofed,
Though death be adjunct, there's no death fuppofed.
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